“I wonder whether Pan means it,” he said to himself. “Suppose we went together to seek our fortunes; he could be my servant, and father and Uncle Tom would forgive me if I came back rich.”
But somehow in a misty way as he walked up to the back of the house, half thinking that he would sound the boy, it hardly seemed to be the way to seek a fortune to start off with a servant.
He had nearly reached the yard when a door was thrown open, and the object of his search rushed out, followed by a shower of words and shoes, which latter came pattering out into the yard as a shrill voice cried—
“A nasty, lazy, good-for-nothing young scamp—always playing with that dog instead of doing your work. Not half clean—not fit to be seen.”
Syd drew back, thinking to himself that Pan could not be much happier than he was himself with the red-faced cook, who ruled over all the servants, to play tyrant to the boy as well.
“Now what could two lads do if they went right away?” mused Syd. “We couldn’t go abroad without going to sea. I don’t think I want to be a soldier, and we’re not big enough if I did. I know—we’d go to London. People seek their fortunes there.”
He seated himself beneath the walnut tree to think it out, but somehow the idea of running away did not seem bright. It was less than a hundred miles to London by the coach-road, and if they walked all the way it did not seem likely that they would have any adventures.
Syd felt in despair, for life seemed as if it must be a terribly dull place without adventures.
He thought he would not run away for two reasons. One that it would look cowardly; the other that it did not look tempting.
“There does not seem any chance of meeting with adventures unless you go to sea,” he said to himself. “I wish there was no sea in the world.”